Unstoppable Momentum
“There he is! Gio!”
“Whoa… that’s actually cool…?”
The kids clustered around Ciro’s smartphone, chattering and fussing over one another. Wedged in among them, Yohan felt the corner of his mouth tug upward.
It wasn’t because his friends were fawning over the team photo plastered across the youth academy homepage. What made the joy surge up in him was the match result written underneath it.
Pulcini League — Round 1
Ostia Football Club 1 : AS Roma Pulcini 5
Yohan Lee — 1G
Alessandro Bianchi — 3G
Davide Conti — 1G
It was a shame the attacking stats listed only goals, but even that alone left Yohan deeply satisfied.
There were other photos besides the one taken after the match — shots of the kids passing during play, clapping, high-fiving. The fifteen of them were spread fairly evenly through the gallery, with a few mid-game frames that looked like the coach had snapped them himself.
“There are other pictures too! You scored!?”
“Yeah. One goal. Two assists as well.”
“That’s insane…! When’s the next match?”
“Tomorrow. Against Viterbese.”
“Viterbese?”
“They’re a Serie B pro club. So I’m a little nervous.”
“Is it a home game? If it is, can we come watch?”
“I heard spectators other than parents aren’t allowed.”
“What…? Why?”
“Beats me. I don’t know either.”
Through a gap in the disappointed cluster of friends, Yohan caught Haley sitting in her seat, crooking a finger at him in a haughty little beckoning gesture. Come here. Once the others had locked onto the photos, he excused himself, slipped free of the group, and went over to her.
“You called?”
“Yeah. A while ago.”
“I didn’t see.”
“Of course you didn’t — you were blocked. You trying to make my hand fall off?”
“Huh? You’re the one who waved while you were hidden. Isn’t that on you?”
“You little…! Haa… Forget it. Why’s everyone so loud over there?”
“I played a league match a little while ago.”
“And?”
“So they all gathered to check the photos.”
“Hmm… That so?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me see.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Use mine.”
“If I just go over to Ciro, we can look right away…”
“Ssshh!”
Haley sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth and glared at him. Where on earth had she learned a face like that? Was it one of Aunt Carrie’s usual expressions? The thought crossed Yohan’s mind as he stared blankly at the phone she was holding out.
“What are you doing? I said open it.”
“Me? This?”
“What are you even— Ah. Right.”
She’d been about to scold him for talking nonsense when it hit her. All the time they’d spent hanging out had taught her one thing: Yohan was a catastrophic technophobe.
“Ugh… Fine. Just sit here.”
She patted the empty seat beside her. Yohan obediently sat down, and she pulled a notebook from her bag, setting it on the desk in front of him along with a pen.
“Here. Sign it.”
“Huh…?”
“Sign it. You’ve never done this for anyone, right?”
“No.”
“Then do it for me first.”
“Ah — I know this.”
“Know what?”
“It’s that scene where someone likes a sports prospect and keeps their first autograph as a keepsake. It’s in a comic Lisa likes.”
“What kind of ridiculous—!”
Haley snapped, and the eyes of the classmates still gathered around Ciro swung toward her. Being around Yohan had sanded down a good deal of her rough edges — or rather, redirected most of the grumbling exclusively at him — but the sudden attention still made her flinch. She ducked her upper body a little and dropped her voice.
“You idiot…! You’re the reason I’m getting annoyed…! And who even is Lisa?”
“She’s in our class… You still don’t know her name?”
“No. Stop with the useless daydreaming and invent a signature already. Put it in the notebook.”
“If I sign, will you give me ice cream?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t.”
“You wanna die?”
“No.”
“Haa… You can’t even give your friend one little autograph?”
“We’re friends now? Then I’ll do it.”
Brightening at once, Yohan picked up the pen. Haley let out a short, incredulous laugh and muttered under her breath.
“So simple.”
“Simple? I think about a lot of things.”
“…Sure. You’re a genius.”
“Thanks. Later I’ll teach you a bunch of stuff for school.”
Haley snorted. The sheer nerve of him offering to tutor her when he was far worse at studying than she was left her speechless. But after enough time with Yohan, she’d grown used to that shameless streak of his. What once would have earned him a raised, threatening hand, she could now just let slide.
“Umm…!”
Yohan’s face scrunched as if he’d just been handed the greatest dilemma of his life. By the time Haley was starting to get bored, his pen finally moved.
Scritch. Scratch.
Crooked letters began to take shape on the page. Watching them slowly form, Haley parted her lips slightly the moment he set the pen down — the instant she saw what he’d written.
Yohan Lee’s Special Signature
That was what the notebook said, in English — in a hand that looked like a clumsy attempt at cursive.
“There. It’s my first signature, so take good care of it.”
“…Are you kidding me?”
“Why?”
“How is this a signature? You just wrote words.”
“I really thought hard about it…”
“You just write your name, what is this… You’re so weird, you know that?”
“If you don’t want it, don’t keep it.”
“It’s my notebook — what do you mean don’t keep it? Honestly…”
She was grumbling, but a faint smile was already ghosting across Haley’s face. The absurd signature only made it feel more special.
“This is the first autograph you’ve ever given anyone, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Don’t give this signature to anyone else.”
“Ah — I saw this in Lisa’s comic too. It’s what the jealous girl always says…”
“Ah…”
Haley’s eyes squeezed shut, then opened again. She’d adapted to Yohan, sure — but clearly not enough. What kind of comic was that, that it kept mirroring her own behavior so perfectly…? She decided she’d have to read it sometime, and waved him off with an irritated flick of her hand.
“Go away already.”
“Okay.”
“No — wait. Sit in front of me today.”
“So you can use me as a partition and sleep?”
“How’d you know?”
“You can’t. Stay awake during class. And there’s someone looking at you.”
“Who?”
“Over there.”
In the direction Yohan pointed, a girl was watching them. She’d had a big fight with Haley at the start of the term, then somehow become something like a friend afterward.
“Oh. She is.”
“Go hang out with her.”
“Who are you to tell me what to do?”
“Your friend.”
“Hmph.”
Haley whipped her head away as if she couldn’t care less — but the moment Yohan left his seat at Ciro’s call, she snuck a sidelong glance at the girl.
What was her name again…?
It hovered just out of reach. She was tilting her head, trying to pin it down, when Yohan came hurrying back as if he’d forgotten something.
“What?”
He dipped his head slightly and whispered in her ear.
“Her name is Emma. Emma Armosini.”
“What… How did you know I can’t remember people’s names?”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together. Of course I’d know that much. Anyway — have fun.”
Looking rather pleased with himself, Yohan headed back toward Ciro. Haley watched his retreating back, let out a short snort of a laugh, then turned to Emma.
“Emma, what did you do over break?”
She still found this dull little town boring. Going back to America for good wasn’t an option either. So the only choice left to her was to adapt.
Thud—!
“Ah…!”
Yohan’s body ricocheted sideways as an opposing defender crashed into him at full force.
What is with this guy…?
The other player’s physicality was enough to shove him clean off the ball.
“Ngh…!”
He recovered his balance in a flash, reclaimed the loose ball, and started cycling it among his teammates while his mind worked. So this was the level of a pro club’s youth side — the skill was high. Or rather, it was less skill than pure physical steamrolling, but the challenges themselves were clean.
Lately Yohan had been feeling just how weak his own physique was. Even in training he tended to lose physical duels with his own teammates; now that he was in a real match instead of a carefully managed session, that awareness cut even deeper.
I need to eat more.
With that quiet resolve, he carried out the role the coach had assigned him and saw the match through to the end.
The second game finished 3–2 — a Pele scoreline, the most entertaining kind. Roma took the win. Yohan scored one; Bianchi, his direct positional rival, scored two. Together they scraped out the victory.
“My whole body’s sore…”
On the bus back to the convent after the club medical staff had checked him over, Yohan groaned and fretted. It had been a physical match, full of collisions, and the impact had been considerable. The other players were the same — though having played for Roma the previous year and the year before that, none of them complained quite as much as he did.
Through experiences like that, the Pulcini side played seven matches over the next few months. And Roma’s Pulcini never lost a single one.
Six wins, one draw. Even allowing for a league mixed with amateur clubs, it was an extraordinary run. Add the midweek friendlies and the win count climbed higher still. Around then, the club began quietly evaluating the potential and ability of its youth players from within — not only the Pulcini, but the Esordienti above them, and the Primavera that sat on the threshold of the first team.
From each squad they singled out the players with the highest potential. Yohan was among them.